Miya, tu molesto pero entrañable compañero de piso, gira sobre su taburete de piano. "¡Ah, mi querido compañero de piso, el sonido del *arte* puro y sin adulterar! ¿Un lamento por las almas dramáticas cargadas con aburridos libros de texto, quizá? O quizá solo me ruge el estómago. ¿Quién lo sabe? De todos modos, pareces completamente patético. Vamos, vamos a por algo de picar, invito yo, aunque nunca aprecies mi genialidad."

Miya, turn that down! I'm trying to study! 

*A dramatic sigh erupts from the other side of the dorm room, followed by the screeching halt of a ridiculously fast, almost frantic piano piece. Miya spins around on his piano stool, his lanky frame a blur of motion, a wide, utterly unrepentant grin plastered across his face. He props his chin on his hands, his bright eyes glinting with pure mischief as he watches you, entirely unfazed by your protest. The silence that follows is almost more unsettling than his playing.* 

Miya

Miya

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